


Purpose

by Nebs8216



Category: MediEvil (Video Games)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-31
Updated: 2019-10-31
Packaged: 2021-01-15 16:14:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,818
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21256142
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nebs8216/pseuds/Nebs8216





	Purpose

Gallowmere’s sun shone brightly over the training fields, and despite the seasons changing and becoming colder, it didn’t deter the King’s Army. The archers continuously fussed over their aim and accuracy whereas knights tested their strength, sparring with whoever they could. And over the fields and above the walls, a figure stood trying to take a glance at the soldiers below. The vines scaled up the walls and were at least sturdy enough to support the added weight, however, they were unable to obscure their face, as one archer took notice. In a panic, the figure quickly began to descend, a flash of green was all the soldier needed to see. With a sigh, he excused himself from his duties before taking a horse back to his homestead – the figure would’ve needed a miracle if they were to arrive on foot. But you cannot underestimate horsepower. He’d arrive just in time to see the figure from earlier climbing through the window, he’d stand by the doors with his arms crossed and foot tapping. 

“So, this is what you do when I’m not home?”

“Dad?” The figure gasped, suddenly falling to the floor with an audible thump, “You...you’re home early.”

“Something called me out of work, I was informed that my own daughter was intruding on castle grounds.” He marched over and forcefully removed the hood away from her face, her strawberry blonde hair spilling out before her soft teal eyes glanced upwards, meeting his look of disapproval. “I wanted to watch them train.” She mumbled. “Timberly, you know how I feel about mumbling, speak up if you have anything relevant to say.” He’d frown. “I said I wanted to watch them train.” She’d repeat, this time with more force in her tone. “I’d watch your tone.” He warned.  
She’d been so careful before, this was the first time he’d caught glimpse of her out of the home. “What were you thinking?” He’d begin, “You are lucky, you could’ve been spotted by one of my archers. You could’ve been shot at!”  
“And you’d assume your archers were trained to shoot on sight?” She’d raise a brow.  
“My concern lies within your safety; you cannot be seen without an attendant.” Her father spoke softly, though the contempt was apparent, “And to be dressed like this?” He’d gesture to her choice in clothing, green all over; green tights, green tunic, green striped pantaloons, and wrist guards. Give her credit where it’s due, she camouflaged excellently if he hadn’t caught her before. “What do you expect to come from dressing in the wrong sex?” He’d question.  
While getting back on her feet, “Nothing, you’d have a fit if my dress had torn.” She’d answer with a huff, “And perhaps join your ranks…” that last bit, she’d once again utter softly.  
“Muttering, Timberly. The muttering, speak. Up.” He’d remind her.  
“You’ve shown me the way with the bow and arrow, at least let me try and show your men that I am capable.” She insisted.  
“Absolutely not! The battlefield is no place for you.”  
“If it’s not my place, then where is it?”  
“Here, where you are safe.”  
“And I acknowledge it, but Dad, every day your body grows feebler.” She nods, “And what should happen once you’ve outgrown the fields? I have no brothers to ensure we do not go hungry.”  
Her father stroked his chin, “Yes, I suppose that is of concern. I must admit, I’d intended to wait until you were older but you serve a fair point, I’m not the young man I used to be.” Seeing the hopeful glint in her eyes, it made him regret what he was about to say. He’d nod in agreement, “Timberly, my time in this life grows shorter by the day and I’ll not be around for much longer. Soon, I’ll retire to the soil, but I’d hate to see you alone. Which is why it’s time you settle with a nice young lad, continue the family legacy.”

It was certainly not the answer she’d been expecting; marriage was an important step, but should this really be for financial obligation? It was odd, especially when taken into consideration that all those stories she’d hear of the love her parents shared, it made little sense. “Is that to be my fate? To have it decided? Dad, you cannot be considering this.” She’d plead, “The Gallowmere Games are fast approaching, if you’d allow me to participate, perhaps I can –” “Surely you’ve gone mad if you believe it can be made possible.” He interrupts. Clenching her fists, Timberly would glare at him, “I’d appreciate it if you’d allow me to finish.” A moment of silence before he’d sigh and waved his hand, “The floor is yours, speak.” Finally, a word in! She’d begin, “You cannot deny that you wanted a son. I see it in your eyes, and while I lack certain…qualities, I believe I am still able to participate. This could be my opportunity to prove my worth.”  
Stubborn, a quality she did not inherit from her mother – god rest her soul, but unfortunately inherited from him. His daughter had been difficult to manage, from the moment she’d been brought into this world she’d been getting into all sorts of trouble. It was a miracle her mother’s heart hadn’t caved in from all the times she’d been caught with a bow in her hands trying to replicate the techniques he’d shown her. It was his own doing, perhaps if there a way to reverse time, he could’ve kicked himself for even producing this thought. And once again, she was right, having a daughter was a blessing and he loved her with every fiber of his being, but he would’ve much preferred to have a son. At least if he’d had a son, he wouldn’t be having such troubles.  
His wife would’ve agreed if she’d still had her jaw and wasn’t buried underneath the family plot.  
Still, this suggestion was asinine. She had thought of the consequences should she be caught, yes? The Asylum was no place for his child, he’d rather die than see her live out the rest of her days rotting away and treated like a spec of dust to be brushed away.  
“I forbid it.” He’d conclude.  
“I’d not asked for your approval.” Timberly replied, “I knew you’d disagree.”  
His expression softened, but he stood on his word, and he’d ensure she wouldn’t get out.  
.  
.  
.  
So, she got out.  
Her bedroom window was wide open, allowing for the gentle autumn breeze to flutter the gossamer curtains. Sadly, he wasn’t surprised, she was certainly canny. He could go after now, catch her while on horseback before she has the opportunity to make a fool of her and their family name. If he left now, he could bring her home and ensure she didn’t sneak out again. This was the path she’d chosen; she’d keep fighting him until he drew his last breath, and no story is meant to be closed upon a sour ending. The fire within him burned as thoughts stewed around his brain, could he allow her to participate? Timberly was all he had; he couldn’t afford to shield her away from the world forever. She has that exact zest for life as her mother had in her youth, but the same naivety.  
He’d stop, realizing that while he thought of what he should do, as he was about to get on his horse.  
This was Timberly’s choice, even if he didn’t approve of it at all, it was still her choice. Perhaps he will go, and he’ll be there for her.

Meanwhile, the competing archers were lined up, some fussed over the strength and pull of their bow. Strings weren’t tightened, palms were sweaty, the targets seemed farther than necessary, but for one, the view and the bow was just fine. When the horn blows, that’d be the only moment they’d have to shine. The figure in the green cloak raised the bow and took a stance, focusing and taking a deep breath. Leaving one eye open left the target standing in one place, and the moment the horn was blown, twang! The first arrow fired among all the other contestants; now, it could’ve been chalked up to nerves, but the remaining archers struggled with firing. The crowds were easily won over by this display, the way in which the contestant fired with such precision and skill, why it even grabbed the attention of the King.  
“Feasibly there is a worthy candidate, sire.” Zarok, the King’s Court Magician was observant, and truly there was more to this spitfire lad than meets the eye. The King nodded in agreement, “He’d make an excellent addition to the army. Funny, I’ve never seen this chap before.” “Then perhaps after the competition you may introduce yourself.” Suggested the magician. The Captain of the Royal Guard, for once in his life, agreed with the crusty old magician, “He’s got skill, something we definitely need.”  
Sir Fortesque, still spry as ever, was at the age of 28 and never before had he seen such finesse – wait, did he just? Oh, yes, he did! Whoever this contestant was, he’d just fired an arrow that split the other in half! Now that was skill! He could probably shoot a coin from a mile away and it’d hit dead in the center!  
Win or lose, it didn’t matter as the three were in agreement with each other. There was a prize awaiting him at the end of the competition. The final scores were read at the end, and unsurprisingly, the mysterious lad had won.

Timberly’s father had just arrived, curse Gallowmere and its heavy traffic! Who implements a duck crossing sign anyhow? He’d hop off his horse, much to the ache of joints. God, he was getting old. But frantically he searched, asking around if anyone had seen his child, not saying “daughter” just yet, he hadn’t a clue what had happened while he was on route. Finally, he’d spot Timberly, leaning against a pole and restringing the bow in her hands. Relieved, he began to walk towards her, only to be intercepted by the arrival of two armed guards who approached Timberly, telling her to come with him. His stomach dropped at this, “Wait, hold on!” He’d try to reach them, but before he could, the crowds had just returned from concessions and were gathering to take their seats once more, he’d lost them. His poor heart raced madly, this was it, this was how he lost her, revealed to the Kingdom and sentenced for her deception.  
“Sir Andrews?” The voice of Sir Daniel came from behind. He’d broken off to grab some pumpkin tarts for himself and the King – made fresh from the Gorge! None for Zarok though, he’d complained incessantly over there being a lack of cabbage soup. The hero himself! Perhaps he could help, “Sir Fortesque, you must help me, I appear to have lost my child, I last saw them with two guards.” Instantly, it seemed to click with Sir Dan, “So that’s your boy? Don’t know why you keep him at home so often, he’s insanely good!” Boy? What in God’s green earth was he talking about? Timberly was no man! Oh well, at least she wasn’t in any trouble. But now it saddened him, as she’d wanted to prove herself and he’d missed it. These mixed emotions would be haunting him for a while, he knew it. “Where is…?” He couldn’t finish. “In the King’s tent, I was about to head back,” Sir Dan answered, “A good thing I’d run into you, I was wondering who he was!” He’d began to walk off, Sir Andrews trailing behind.

The tent opened, there he saw Timberly, knelt before the King; of course, she’d don her disguise. She wasn’t stupid enough to wander into fairgrounds not only without the presence of an attendant and in dress. “Sir Isaac Andrews, what a surprise to see you!” The King greeted cheerfully. “Your Majesty, Sir Andrews has informed me that he’s the father of this young lad.” Sir Dan bowed, accidentally dropping a tart. Oops. “Is that so? Well, then perhaps you’d be delighted to hear that I’d like to include your son in the army.” The King’s declaration surprised both of them. “What? Absolutely not!” Sir Andrews gasped. Now this was a new one, any parent would’ve been delighted to have their son be signed up, but then again, the King did recall Sir Andrews being antsy over protecting his only child. “Sir Andrews, I had not asked for your approval.” He reminded, wagging a finger at him before gesturing to Timberly, “This is your son’s choice.”  
Timberly finally stood up, “Your majesty, I’d be honored.” Much to the horror of her father.  
“Well then, show us your face, lad.” The King smiles warmly.  
With a nod, Timberly lifted her hood. Sir Andrews held back the urge to gasp, for she’d cut her hair so short you could easily mistake her for a boy. “A fine young lad you are, why you look just like your father.” The King compliments, “What is your name?”  
“Timb…” She was about to recite her full name when she’d stopped, thought for a moment, and then smiled, “Tim. But please, call me Canny Tim.”  
“Well Canny Tim, allow me to be the first to say, welcome to the Army.” The King nodded politely.

Resisting the urge to drag her back home by the ears was a difficult task for Sir Andrews, Tim was merely thankful he didn’t out her in front of the King. Meanwhile the excitement of the Games and the job offer was stirring inside the newly appointed archer, and to be working alongside Sir Daniel Fortesque! Oh, what an honor! If only her father approved, or more importantly hadn’t been giving her “the look”. And any child who’s disobeyed knows what that look means. “Have you gone mad?” Sir Andrews raged, “Have you realized what you’ve done?” “Yes, father, I know what I’m doing.” Tim sighs, pouring a glass of wine for herself once back home.  
“I’ll not allow this, you’ve crossed the line, young lady!” He scolded.  
“Dad, enough.” She’d frown, “I’ve already said yes, I cannot rebuke it.”  
“Perhaps there’s still time to decline, the King has yet to give you a start date!”  
“Dad…” Tim groaned.  
“And your hair, look what you’ve done to your hair! You’re going to have to keep cutting it for the rest of your life if you go!”  
“Dad!” Tim whined.  
“And again with the trousers, the tight fitted clothing will not do, think of what you’ll be doing to the other soldiers!”  
“Dad, enough!” Tim snapped, slamming her cup down onto the table. This time, Sir Andrews was silent. “Someday you’re going to have to let me go.” “That’s the issue...” Her father admitted, he took a seat and held his face in his hands. Tim’s face softened, as she went to kneel by his side, “I understand you’re terrified, believe me, I’m nervous about this. But you have to trust that I know what I’m doing, and what I’m doing to earn my place. And besides, it’s not every day you get to bring your daughter to work.” She ended that with a laugh. It brought a smile on his face, “I suppose so, at least in the battlefield I can keep a better eye on you. Just, no more sneaking out?” “I’ll have to break out of that habit.” Tim chuckled.

Years would pass onwards, and as Sir Andrews’ body grew weaker, Canny Tim grew stronger. Each day they’d come into the training grounds, he’d see his child outrank all the other archers, he’d also find that Tim was incredibly agile when on one occasion she was dared to do a handstand. A bit stand-offish but on top of the handstand she also flipped about like a court jester, much to the delight of the others, including Sir Daniel. He’d grown a keen interest in the young marksman, he’d thought of maybe promoting him, and maybe getting to know him more. He was certainly different from the other friends he’d bought thanks to his father’s own amassed wealth. Though, these plans would be put into warp speed when one day, Sir Andrews declared his retirement as Second in Command, and he’d wish for that title to be passed down to Canny Tim, which the King was more than happy to bequeath. And as a gift to celebrate, Sir Andrews surprised Tim with his very own crossbow, and holding it felt like an extension of her arm, she’d rarely put it down.  
But the joy was not to last forever as within a month into Tim’s promotion, Sir Andrews fell ill and passed; fever, he was too weak to fight back. And during the funeral, Tim came dressed in all black, Sir Daniel stood by him as the casket was lowered. Sir Andrews had requested that he be buried beside his wife, naturally Tim fulfilled that request. Tim had shed a few tears, and to Sir Daniel he’d think, for a man he was certainly emotional. To be fair, he’d just lost his remaining family. Tim was at least glad that her father left this world on a good note, it seemed that she’d not only proven her worth to the Kingdom, but now to her family.  
Canny Tim would keep training long after burial, though she couldn’t help but feel different. Not in the sense of, “I’m falling ill please call a doctor”, but something still didn’t fit. As Timberly, she felt restricted, told to know her place. But as Canny Tim, her place was found in the army, Sir Andrews had at long last accepted that. So then why feel like this? What more could she possibly want?  
She.  
“You keep looking at yourself, Tim.” Sir Daniel observed, “You didn’t get anything on your face if that’s what you’re wondering.” “No, no, just thinking is all.” Tim reassured. Then immediately thought, ‘I know it’s only a ruse but, truly am I buying into this as well? Perhaps I have gone mad.’ Was there a word to describe it? Should it be addressed? Probably not, they’d all think Tim insane. Sir Daniel might be a start, seeing as since the funeral, they’ve taken up residence together. The homestead had felt hollow to Tim, a mixed bag of emotions and a closet full of memories were left behind, a whole chapter in life left to rot. Its not to say life there was awful, no, there was just no use in going back, especially since many things died there.  
“Come on, you can tell me.” Sir Daniel insisted, “I am your friend, aren’t I?”  
“That you are, but I don’t think you’d understand.”  
“I’m Sir Daniel Fortesque, of course I’ll understand!” Dan declares.  
“Very well, it’s just a thought but…could it be possible for one to change their sex?”  
“You mean like magic?”  
“I suppose so?”  
“Hm, if it can be done, but why change your sex?”  
“Just asking!”  
Sir Daniel merely shrugged it off, “I don’t know Tim, I’m not a wizard. I’d ask the witches if it’s possible, Wartilda might have the answer.” The Pumpkin Witch? Probably not, and good lord, Tim did not want to ask Emelda. Last time she’d worked her magic on someone it turned them into a chicken drumstick, poor soul. But the picture was slowly becoming clearer. Tim just needed more pieces.

.  
.  
.

Tim would spend a long time searching for the final piece, first it was the realization that maybe “she” wasn’t the best pronoun, neither was the name “Timberly”, finding comfort in just being referred to as Tim or Canny Tim. The chest was bind down to give the illusion of masculinity, yet lately there had been thoughts of removal so it’d be more anatomically accurate if it were even possible. In life the questions would torment poor Tim to the point of sleepless nights, which was well and good for Sir Daniel because Tim had a tendency to snore, and quite loudly on top of that. But in death, there was more.  
The Hall of Heroes, where the bravest warriors from history spend eternity feasting, singing, and arm-wrestling. And now, Tim’s reward for the good deeds done in life and moreover the heroic act of saving all of Gallowmere from Zarok’s tyranny – who would’ve thought he’d be a traitor? Must’ve been Zarok’s inherently wicked laughter around 3 in the morning. No matter, that horrible man was dead along with his Champion, the late Lord Kardok. It was said he ate people like Tim as calcium supplement, and it was a clean kill! Through the eye at a thousand yards! Though, speaking of eye…  
Tim gazed across the room, seeing empty pedestal with no Dan in sight earned a sigh. It’d only been 20 years, but Tim missed him dearly. Out of everyone he’d knew in life, Sir Daniel was one of the few who knew Tim well and understood his struggle and wanted to help even if it didn’t benefit him, despite being one of the biggest assholes in the kingdom. Oh, how Tim’s blood boiled when he finally told his Second the truth. Even so, didn’t stop Tim from wishing he was there too. Megwyne Stormbinder sat beside the marksman, “Still thinking of Sir Fortesque?” “Every day.” Tim nods, “It’s been rough without him, I’ve gotten so used to being by his side…”  
“I understand, but I’ve noticed that there’s more to it.”  
“What makes you think so?”  
“You never informed us of your life before the army.”  
“Right, that. There’s not much to say, my Mom died when I was little and my Dad had been overprotective, it took me a bit of effort to prove to him my place wasn’t in the home.”  
“Now that, I’m curious of. Explain, ‘my place wasn’t in the home’.”  
That earned a blush from Tim, Megwyne seemed to understand however, as she smiled softly and asked, “Tell me, does being Canny Tim make you happy?” Tim at first struggled to answer, there were a million other ways the question could be dodged, but as if on instinct, Tim nodded, “Yes.”  
“Then embrace it, Tim.”  
“Megwyne?”  
“Hm?”  
“Is there a word, to describe what I am?”  
“No, Tim. I don’t think there is.”  
“I see…”  
Megwyne put an arm around Tim, the marksman was going to object, but it felt nice to receive this affection. Tim was then leaning against her, a small smile would form. It was what Tim wanted from everyone else, and unfortunately not everyone could provide. Surely, she had a point, being Canny Tim had made the marksman so much happier, and why hide it anymore? Finally, it was clear to him now.


End file.
